Dear Abby
by StartTheFantasy
Summary: Years of longing; years of failures. Two Harvard students who found their futures. Journal entries for the child they had always longed for, prayed for, and had faith that the day would arrive when they would have their little family.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus.**

**All chapters are pre-written. **All mistakes are my own, there are no beta's doing miraculous editing. ****

**It seems that some of my greatest ideas appear during the bath time. There's just something about bubble bath, rubber duckies, and water that bring out the ideas in me. Therefore, I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I have during writing it. The entire thing is pre-written, so you won't have to wait around for too long for updates.**

**Chapters will get longer, I promise!**

**Please enjoy!**

**-Leslie**

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><p><em><strong>August 12, 1996<strong>_

Dear Bean;

The joyous news of was given to us today of your appending arrival.

The news comes with the upmost excitement your father, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen and I have spent many years trying to obtain. Each attempt was always a fail, as we tried our best to be blessed with a small bundle of joy, but we always knew that if we kept our faith strong, we would one day find ourselves in this blissful moment.

Please know, when looking back on your life, that neither one of us once blamed God for making the road to this occasion long, that we always kept our faith at the forefront each and every day.

I hope by the time you're able to read and understand the words written within these pages, that you know how much your father and I cherish you and all the days spent with you is a blessing from beyond what we, as humans, can fathom and comprehend.

Know that each of us will forever be your shield against life's rocky storms and the guides along the beaten path. Know that we will be standing on each side of you, cheering you on with each of life's triumphs, that you will forever be loved no matter what.

Love,

Momma

**Find me on the following:**

**Facebook - com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus.**

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and are still with me. I welcome all your kind words and criticism. You keep me humbled with your words; truly. **

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

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><p><em><strong>August 24, 1996<strong>_

Dear Baby Bean;

Since your mother received the honors of writing the first entry, I thought it was only fair that, as your father, I got dibs on the next entry.

The news of your conception was a moment in my time here on Earth that I shall never forget, Bean.

That day, waiting in that tiny white room, both your mother and I were filled with a hint of excitement, but more scared than anything. Fears that neither of us knew about in the past, seemed to inhabit themselves into our brains. Was this real? Could we actually take care of a new life, someone so tiny? We're we capable of being parents? Did we have the means to raise a child? They were all there, present in the forefront of our minds that day.

Years of failed attempts caused us sadness, but still our faith in God stayed at the forefront of our minds, guiding us through like a beacon in the storm. Still, we each clung to our belief's, knowing that if we remained strong, that our dreams would one day become reality.

Here we are, in the moment of our dream becoming a reality.

I'm extremely elated.

Now my wish is for you to be healthy; that's all that truly matters now.

It doesn't matter if you're a bouncing baby boy or a prima ballerina one day, only that my love for you will always remain the same.

Love,

Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**Welcome Back! I'm still humbled with your words and support, you're all too kind.**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 12, 1996<strong>_

Dear Bean;

The reality has sunken in; finally able to truly believe this is all real. Even in reality though, it's odd to know that within my womb, you lay, taking the things you need from body to grow.

Most mothers and fathers are excited, rightfully so, but they are all the same. They each long for the day when they will feel your sudden kicks, granting them the knowledge that you are growing strong within your mother. This moment allows them the joy of having your presence known to them. This is the moment that a child has gained some type of a personality, to say the least.

Your father and I are not those types of parents. We are the type of parents who live to savor the experience; knowing that we have waited a lifetime for this moment to arrive. The two of us want the experience to be as special as the day before.

Each attempt at invitro was a painful experience for me, along with your father, but now, after all that pain, we realize how much the pain was worth it. All the depressing days, days that always took a toll on my soul, seem to now be eclipsed by the beauty of what is to come in the future as your arrival looms over us.

No matter what, child of mine, know that each unsuccessful attempt was worth the joy that I feel in my heart and soul now. You'll always be the apple of my eye, sweet child.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**Y'all are such an amazing group of people. I'm still humbled and happy that you're enjoying these moments with me.**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 24, 1996<strong>_

Dear Baby Bean;

Your father again, sweet child.

Both, your mother and I agreed that we'd take turns writing to you once a month. We felt like this choice would please us both, but if I'm being honest, we would have probably agreed on writing to you once a day and been just as happy about that too. This way, the once a month thing, gives us a chance to soak it all in and decide on what the most important things in life were over the past month was to share with you in our writing.

I guess with most of our thoughts out there now, perhaps I could share with you things from the past as well as my hopes and dreams for your future.

My entry today will be about the first time I ever saw your mother. Man was she a beauty. There was just something about the way she held herself, there in that dimly light library corner. At first, I was terrified to approach her, scared that her demeanor would chew me and spit me out. I later found out, that she wasn't overly-confident and I had no worries about the kind woman chewing me up and spitting me out.

In all honesty, I never even realized that she was someone that I should have noticed outside of the walls of that library that night. Here she was, going to the university and studying the very same field I was. She too, was from a well to-do family, wanting to save the victims of the world. Apparently, we both held the compassion for our fellow citizens, wanting to use our inheritance to do pro-bono work.

Again, your mother is a beauty.

Here I was, a law student at Harvard, clearly having lost my mind. That first time I saw her, I lost all focus in my studies and spent the entire time staring at your mother across that dimly lit room. Tables between us, littered with other students and piles of books, yet she was the only thing I noticed.

All those wasted opportunities; times when I could have drowned out our professors, if I had only knew she sat closer to the back in our oversized classrooms. Man, when I found that out, I wanted to literally kick my own ass. Wait, don't say… No, don't repeat that word to your mother; she'll have both our heads.

Alright, back to the original story now. There I sat, completely devoid of anything else in my world for days. I watched her from afar, many times with baited breathe, just for a glance of her fingers running through her silky hair when she was frustrated with her studies. Moments when she would chew on her pen with a furrowed brow; to times when her nose would scrunch up adorably before her eyes twinkled when she understood the answer. All those things were only a few of tiny details that caused my heart to almost completely stop before coming to a stutter and finally taking back off in a gallop.

I bided my time, trying to completely psych myself up enough so I was capable of standing from my chair and pushing my feet one in front of the other. It took well over a week before this happened, but when I did, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I stood before her, casting a shadow across her book, causing her to snap her head in my direction and that was the moment that I knew I would never, in all my life, love another. Those big, molten chocolate eyes gazed at me in confusion and a somewhat startled look of recognition.

It was in that moment, that I stuck my hand out and stuttered my name out, praying that she would not send me on my way. God must have had faith in me that day, because she didn't send me on my way, she kindly ask me to join her. That was when the planets aligned and all was right in the world.

By the end of the semester we had experienced all our firsts together, along with finding an apartment together. During the summer we had planned our wedding, married, and enjoyed a honeymoon in the rolling hills of Ireland. I had thought your mother as beautiful under the dim lights of the library, but nothing could surpass her beauty among those green hills.

I'll end there, that way I can save more for the future.

Love,

Your Proud Papa

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><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**Alright, so again, I'm still all humble and all that good shit. Thank you several times over for staying with me and reading. You all rock! Like seriously. (That was said in my best voice of a Valley Girl.) *snorts***

**Anyways, on with the story…**

**-Leslie**

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><p><em><strong>October 12, 1996<strong>_

Dear Bean;

Momma is eating like a horse, although I've gained several pounds, I couldn't be happier. I love you, sweet child of mine. Even the early morning nausea is worth it, knowing the end results. I will forever be grateful for this experience; the good and the bad parts.

I'm sure by now that you understand the whole monthly attempts to write to you, on both of our parts. In all honesty, I would prefer to write to you each and every day, but that would be unfair to your dad, since we plainly made this deal from day one. Two letters a month are alright; right?

I figure now is the time when I share things from the past, instead of all the things that I hope for your future. I'm sure you'll appreciate hearing these things, instead of the constant tales of how much I hope you are healthy.

I will start from that very first day of actually meeting your father for the first time.

I remember that very second, in that stuffy library, when a shadow was cast across my textbook. At first, I was prepared to blow the person off, knowing that I had much to study for. We had a test in one of our classes the following week, and I wished only to fill my brain with each piece of information that I could possibly get to stick in there. I realized how rude that would have been, it was probably just a library attendant or something, so a moment to spare for them was the least I could do, right?

The very moment that I raised my head, I clearly let the confusion show. Here stood this beautiful man, one whom I had seen from time to time in my classes. Recognition clearly broke through in mere seconds after that.

Surely this man could not possibly want to speak to me. That was the first thought that entered my mind. I had seen him on numerous occasions; his lithe build, strong jaw, and silky skin. He was handsome in all his glory; rightfully so too. He couldn't possibly be untaken; surely there was a beautiful woman that had gained his love.

Imagine my surprise when he quickly darted his hand out before me and stuttered his name. Shy. That was my first impression of him up close. It was in that moment, that not only was he handsome, but he was adorable as well.

Those deep emerald eyes sought out my very soul and captured my heart within minutes. There we sat, among our peers, banishing all thoughts on studying and learned of the other. The library became the center stage for our romance and allowed us the opportunity to learn everything there was to know about the other.

I had found my kindred spirit; both of us there to study law, both of us wanting the same things in life. He was such a compassionate man. I learned over the beginning of our relationship that it wasn't pity he seen in those less fortunate, just the kindheartedness of his heart. It was just another thing that had me falling so quickly.

Sure, there were little things that made my heart swell when he was near. Like the habit of running his fingers through his hair and then tugging at the roots when he was frustrated, nervous, or embarrassed. There was also his need to gain every ounce of knowledge he could and tuck it away in his brain for future references.

Honestly, sweet child of mine, I hope you grow up to meet a person just like he is; the one who completes you just as he has completed me; a strong person with his character and ambitions. That is all I could ever ask for.

I'm sure by the time you have read these words, you have heard the stories straight from our mouths repeatedly; but if you're anything like your parents, you'll enjoy every moment of those stories.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**Hey you! Yes, you. You're amazing and send the most humbling words of support. I'm truly blessed to have you all in my corner.**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 24, 1996<strong>_

Dear Baby Bean;

Once again, it's your proud Papa.

You, my sweet child, will blessed with a life full of love. As long as you remember that you will always have an endless amount of family surrounding you, ones who love you more than life, you'll grow to be an amazing individual.

I'm such a proud man right now, and that's all thanks to your wonderful mother. She has given me a gift that I could never thank her enough for. Just knowing that you're growing strong within her womb at this moment, well, it makes me a happy man. I hope by the time you can understand these words that you have experienced endless amounts of my pride for you.

Now the time comes for me to share another story. A story that one day you'll enjoy and cherish.

This story is about the day I asked your mother to marry me.

I had spent countless night watching her sleep, nestled up in my arms at night. Her hair, the way it splayed out across my chest as she nuzzled there. Moments like this, where the moonlight peeked through the blinds and casted shadows against her face; those were the moments of her truest beauty. Gone were the pretenses of society; make-up, fashionable clothing, etc. When we were concealed within the walls of our apartment, her true beauty shined. Those nights filled with baggy sweats, my loose shirts, and no make-up.

Among those late nights spent watching her sleep, I dreamed of our lives together; of what the future had in store for us. It was there, in the soft moonlight, that I realized that I needed to ask this beautiful creature to marry, share our lives together until we were called home to be with the Lord.

Most men would spend countless hours on ways to make a grand gesture, but once the idea was in my head, it instantly clicked. I knew that the simplest thing would have her face lit with a brilliant smile; one that no other man would have the pleasure of witnessing.

The day, I awoke with high spirits and a bounce in my step. Your mother smiled amusingly at me throughout the day, not even having a clue as to why I was so happy. Once I had a few moments to myself, I called your grandmother and asked her to send your great, great, great grandmother's engagement ring. It had been handed down throughout the family many times over, and if I knew my Bella, she would rather have something of sentimental value as to monetary value. With her graceful beauty came a pure heart; boundless and so full of love for all.

The very day the ring arrived; I packed a picnic lunch and took your mother to her thinking spot, as she liked to call it.

A short distance from the campus, a tiny meadow lay just off a beaten path. To the 'normal' person all they would see is trees and bushes, to those who like adventure; they would what lay beneath the surface of those trees. Your mother, ever the adventurer, did just that. Upon stumbling through the thicket of trees that day, she beamed and ran circles along the outer edges of the meadow. Her white summer dress flowed effortlessly against the wind as she danced along the blossoming flowers that day. This was just another example of your mothers true beauty; one that few could possibly understand.

There, in that meadow, surrounded by wild flowers, your mother declared it her thinking spot. Many times, there in spot, surrounding by all our books we would let the gentle air and aroma of the flowers fill our minds and allow us the atmosphere to fill our minds with the nonsense that we needed at the time. But fret not; we also went there to just soak in the day's nature when we just needed a break from reality.

During one of the summer months, when most of all students had returned home to their families, your mother and I resurrected a wooden swing from one of the trees on the outskirts of the meadow. You could swing and soak in all the beauty of the untainted meadow, tucked underneath a well shaded area. Yes, we had families to return home to, but we had always elected to stay for summer classes, keeping us well on way of accomplishing our dreams that much quicker.

It was there, on that old weathered swing, that I would ask your mother to marry me.

I remember that day so clearly. The sweet August air, sun tucked high away in the sky, and those pretty little flowers opened and showing their true colors for our eyes to witness. I all but demanded your mother to join me in our meadow that day, but honestly, demands were fruitless when it came to going there. We both enjoyed the privacy and freedom to be ourselves there, no pretenses whatsoever.

Again, the day was beautiful. The short walk to the meadow was filled with happiness as was every time going there. We filled the walk with ideal chatter, holding hands with goofy smiles on our faces. There was always something about the meadow that made the child in us come out to play. As we entered through the right side of the meadow, we paused for a second and inhaled the scent of the blossoming flowers.

Once we reach the middle of the meadow, I sat the picnic basket down, unfolded a blanket and lay it across the ground. I took your mother's hand then, and helped her to the ground. We shared a lunch of sandwiches, fruit, chips, and soda, still in our blissful states.

That afternoon, a gentle spray of rain overtook our peaceful bubble, but my Bella refused to let it deter us. She slowly packed the basket, then sprung to her feet in laughter, sprinting towards the swing with a faint yell of, "push me" flowing through the air.

My laughter met hers as I launched myself from the blanket, wiping beads of rain from my face in the process. Once I reach her spot, I gently began to push her. Her delightful squeals swelled my heart further.

The crescendo of rain was beyond us, causing me to stop the swings motions altogether. I grabbed the ring from my pocket before I stepped in front of your mother, confusion clearly on her face. There, on the outskirts of our meadow, I dropped to my knee, ready to give my heart completely. I cupped her cheek in my hand, running my thumb across her high cheek bone.

"Isabella," I had started, at which those beautiful tear-filled eyes erupted, flowing softly from her eyes.

"Edward," she had murmured, her lips trembling.

"Please sweet angel, marry me," I asked, conviction clear in my voice.

This is the moment our fairy tale life began, as she whispered softly, "yes, Edward."

So sweet child, I hope your life is nothing more than a fairy tale.

Love,

Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>November 12, 1996<strong>_

Dear Bean;

The Ultrasound appointment was today. You're growing stronger each and every day, Bean. Your dad and I could not be any happier about this fact. We both love you so much already.

It was so thrilling and revitalizing seeing our miracle child growing and striving within my womb. Yes we're excited for the day you arrive, but each of these moments are just as exciting.

Now I begin to share a piece of history with you about my relationship with your father. Bean, I honestly don't think any man could compare to your daddy in the sweetness department. I pray that you find a man or woman in your lifetime that is a replica of your dad in that capacity. Along with sweet comes cheesy, so beware.

The giggles that erupt inside my throat just recalling this moment swell my heart even further for your daddy.

I had come down with just your common cold during our last semester at Harvard. Your father was adamant on taking me to the ER late that first night. Ideally, I would have preferred to have had a shower before going there, but your dad refused me that luxury, quoting, "you haven't the strength to dry your hair, you'll catch cold." I'm sure your mind has already come to the conclusion that I was already sick, how could I possibly catch a cold. Granted, I could have caught pneumonia if my hair was wet, but I fear the weather just wasn't in favor of that happening. It was actually pretty muggy that evening, sure it's possible that might have happened, but anyways, he's always the worrywart.

So your dad is rushing around the house, packing things as if we're going on vacation. A twenty minute drive to the ER turns into let's pack like we're leaving the country on some month long parade around Europe. I was so sick, voice weak, that my voice of reason went unheard.

By the time he is satisfied with his packing job, I have no shoes visible, besides my house slippers. Oh yes, those dreadful things. I admit I do have an obsession with house slippers. I think your father buys me a new pair every week. So needless to say, the SpongeBob shoes get thrown on my feet by your father's hands, he then cradles me in his arms with the suitcase bobbing in his hands as we walk. All I could do is shake my head at the absurdity of everything happening around me.

I remind you, the man flat out refused the shower I begged for, all in his willingness to take care of me. The bad part was he didn't take in account my skimpy attire. The realization came the moment he opened the door of the car right in view of all people waiting in the ER waiting room, sat beyond the large sliding glass doors. Yes, in his frenzy to see that I was well again, the man had lost his utter mind. Bless his heart.

There I stood – boy shorts up to butt, SpongeBob house slippers, and skimpy camisole with no bra. I was mortified, but the look on your fathers face had me forgetting my own predicament. Honestly, I have no words to describe how red your father was, nor the sputters that escaped his lips upon the realization that he had just showed the ER world so much of my flesh.

He was quick recover though, immediately jerking his shirt from his body and covering me up from view. So I suppose that the vacation luggage came in handy that evening; really. We waited in that waiting room for hours, both red in the face from embarrassment, but at least we could giggle about it nonetheless.

Bean, my point is, roll with the punches that life gives you. Some will be filled with laughter, some with sadness, but life moves on in some many unbelievable ways. You'll overcome many obstacles that are worth remembering, some you wish you could have forgotten, but at the end of the day, you'll be thankful that they happened and you survived. Yes, embarrassment will be a likely thing, but if you know how to roll with the punches, you'll learn to laugh at the embarrassing moments.

You and your father are my everything sweet child, I'm happy to know that I can write about moments like this, and know that they'll be on paper for you to look back on. When we're no longer part of this world, you'll be able to still remember who we were and read the love that we shared for one another.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>November 24, 1996<strong>_

Dear Baby Bean;

Like your mother mentioned earlier in the month, the ultrasound appointment was at the beginning of this month.

Sitting there, in that chair, beside your mother's head with her hand clasped tightly within mine, it was truly one of the most remarkable moments in my life. At first the fears reemerged, but I quickly squashed those down. Then the moment became surreal, not that this wasn't surreal from the beginning. Seeing with my own eyes the amount that you had grown already, and then turning to stare at the remarkable woman whose body housed your tiny form, it truly was amazing. With knowing the hardships we had faced in the past to get to this point in life, all the suffering our hearts had dealt with; I admit, I cried.

Yes, I'm man enough to admit I cried.

Now I present you another story about your mom and me.

It was a rainy night in late August during that first year together. The day was filled with endless amounts of lectures about some famous off the wall case dated far back in history. The lectures were always tedious and boring, but now knowing that your mom was in most my classes, it really helped the boringness of them all.

We had had plans to go on a romantic date that evening, but by the end of classes, we realized it was undoable. We had reports to write and no time to actually spend a romantic evening together. With that class of the late afternoon being one we had to spend apart from the other, we parted ways in a literal funk.

After class, we usually met up in the common area so that we could part ways for the early evening with a gentle kiss. However, your mother never greeted me with that kiss that day. I was worried senseless, because it was unlike her to do such a thing. I repeatedly call her cell phone with worried messages left on her voicemail. I was panicked when she didn't answer, nor return my phone calls. My eyes searched above the mass of heads, hopelessly trying to spot her mahogany hair, but to no avail.

Remember this was before we had begun to live together, so all I could do was race to her room, hope above hope that she was there. Perhaps she had gotten sick and went back there in hopes of getting in a nap earlier. Once I had made it to her room, I pounded on her door only to have her gothic roommate to tell me that she hadn't seen her. You see, I never had a key to her room for fear that I would walk in on her roommate at the worst possible time.

I raced back to my room, still worried sick, hoping and praying that she would return my call soon. Once I had made it to my room, my hands shook as I tried to get the key in the knob. The smell of sweet honey filled my nostrils before I had even looked up to take in the room. All was silent when I looked up, taking in the soft glow of what seemed to be a hundred candles spread out around the room. My eyes roamed each flickering light before zeroing in on your mothers slender body tucked into her on my bed.

My anxiety quickly disappeared as I took her in sleeping form. I honestly hated to wake her, so I slowly undressed and slipped gently behind her form in the bed. Tucking her body into mine, I wrapped my arms around her protectively and sighed in relief; this was my home.

It turns out that your mother had skipped her class that day, refusing to allow our studies to come between the times spent between the two of us. Balance; that had been the word she had chosen. She had wanted us to have our romantic date, even if it was locked away in my dorm room studying. We had both taken turns reading over lecture notes and research material, while the other massaged the other's back.

So, I leave you with a bit of advice and wisdom at this point in the letter. Balance, it's one of the strongest points that I could stress. When two people are in love, in order to remain strong for the other, balance is the biggest role of all.

I love you…

Love,

Your Proud Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>December 12, 1996<strong>_

Dear Bean;

I suppose Bean should go, since we've been made aware of what sex you are, but Bean will suffice for now, since we've not decided on your name as of yet.

I'll let you in on a secret though; your father is stuck on the name Abigail. I do love the name; however I think for short, we'll be calling you Abby. It's so wonderful how much love your father and I have for you right now, and it will only continue to grow, no doubt.

Your father was so adorable when he stuck his bottom lip out and pouted, determined to have our daughter named Abigail. I might have put my finger to my chin in thought, making it seem as though I was up in the air about this decision. Don't tell him, but I secretly loved the name and how he was unwavering. There's nothing like getting to see that pouty face of his, it gives me butterflies to this day.

Now to one of my most cherished memories.

This was the day that I had brought him home to meet my parents. He was such a nervous wreck. Hands wringing wet from sweat, a furrow in his brows, the way he stumbled up the steps to the overly-sized house on the hill. There was only one word for him, a mess; that he was.

Here he was, face to face with a politician. Your grandfather was a well-respected man in our community, one who would to any length to better his country. Then there was your grandmother; the ever-strange hippie. How those two worked was beyond me, but they are still going strong today.

It was such a day filled with laughter.

Your father, ever the confident man that he is, seemed to revert back to a gangly teenage boy. I can imagine it as if it was yesterday, which only makes me shake my head in laughter as I write this.

My father was a man on a mission, one to prove that no man was good enough for his daughter. I did, however, warn your father beforehand, so he did have fair warning.

You're grandfather always had an obsession with guns, any type, so he made show of cleaning his guns in his study when we went to greet him and allow myself to introduce your father. Before my father had looked up from his hobby, you dad stifled a gasp, but quickly regained his composure.

As I had then dragged your dad into the room, he marched right up to your grandfather's desk and all but demanded attention. Once my father laid his gun of choice down, he looked upon your dad with disdain at first, and then something must have registered with just one look in the eyes of your dad.

Your dad cleared his throat and all but told your grandfather that he had better swallow his pride because he was the man who would forever have my heart. He declared to him that day, upon first meeting, that he would be married to his only daughter soon.

For ten minutes, he stood stock-still, daring your grandfather to say anything negative about our relationship. By the end of the night, your dad had the respect that he deserved when it came to how your grandfather had seen him and our relationship.

I had never been more proud of your father than in that moment, as we left the over-sized house that no longer felt like my home. My home was with the man who stood up to my father like a real man should.

A word of wisdom, sweet child: Stand up for what you believe in, no matter what, nor who isn't standing up with you. You'll be a better person for living your life for what you believe in.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>December 24, 1996<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

Well, your name is now settled, along with your nickname. How wonderful right? No being referred to as an edible good now. Okay, so that might not be something funny to you, but it is to me. Your dad is weird sweetheart, overlook me.

When my heart was set on Abigail; I knew I had your mother hook, line, and sinker. The way her eyes glassed over and her thoughts drifted to another world, I knew instantly that we had found your name. Now sweetheart, please don't hold it against us in the future when you finally realize your whole name as being, Abigail Bean Cullen. We simply could not give Bean a rest; it was just so fitting to us, considering we had started calling you Bean from the very start.

Here's another perfect story about your mother and I's relationship, sweet child. I hope you find comfort in these words later in life.

Since your mother included a watered down version of my first meeting with her parents, I find it only fair to share with you the experience that she had encountered with my parents; your grandparents.

During a short break in our time at the University, I decided to broach the subject of us visiting my parents. For the most part your mother remained cool and collected on the outside, but I knew her like a book by this point; she was anything but.

When the day arrived for us to visit, she flitted around her dorm room like a chicken with its head cut off, throwing clothing haphazardly around her tiny space. Her nerves had clearly gotten to her, so I took pity on her and found her a soft, cashmere sweater in blue and a pair of comfortable dress slacks. I proceeded to scrounge around until I found a nice pair of flats that matched the entire outfit that I had handed her beforehand. Her soft sigh; genuine and grateful for my help.

The entire journey to my parents' house, she had fidgeted uncontrollably. The only calmness she could possibly soak in was the gentle rubbing of my thumb along her knuckles. However, the minute we pulled into the drive of my parents' home, one that was clearly bigger than her parents over-sized house, she was flushed and fanning herself. Tiny sweat beads had slowly begun to build upon her silky, soft skin.

Once I had calmed her down with reassuring words and soft kisses being peppered across her face, she again began to relax.

As we had begun to make our way up the steps to the double door entrance, I continued to speak with love evident in my voice, there was no room left to doubt that my parents would love her.

My mother quickly wretched the door open and engulfed your mom into a motherly hug. Affection towards your mom had completely floored her, as she had been unprepared, but within seconds the two were lost in their own little world; myself all but forgotten.

Still not a simple hello was given to me, as my mother dragged your mom into the house prattling on about this and that, as they made their way to the kitchen to catch up.

I still stood in the entrance with a dazed expression. You grandfather found me in that same position five minutes later, clearly seeing the confusion on my face, before he broke out into a bout of laughter. He quickly ushered me inside, reminding me that my mother had long been waiting for this day.

Your grandfather and I spent several hours in the living room, speaking here and there about how my classes were doing, before we headed off to the kitchen in order for my father to receive his introductions.

Both parents seemed enthralled by my beautiful Bella, so I let them enjoy all the time that they could with her.

By the end of the night, my mother had arranged to spend more time with Bella in the near future, with Bella quickly agreeing.

Pride - that's exactly what I felt by the end of the night.

Words of Wisdom, sweet child; never underestimate the meaning of love.

Love,

Proud Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 12, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

Well my sweet child, we're over half-way there.

Each day of this pregnancy has been remarkable, knowing that my body is nurturing you still, it truly is wonderful.

Last night, while your dad and I were cuddled up next to the fire, reminiscing about our lives years ago, you decided to grace us with your presence in a new way. I've been the one to experience the morning sickness, the swollen ankles, the never-ending heartburn, the growing stomach, and the pregnancy hormones; so I was thrilled, along with your father, that he finally got to experience something along with me. Yes, he had been there for me through all the other stuff as well, but the moment your tiny foot kicked within my womb, we were both awestruck. It was a simply amazing moment, and we both wept with the joy that we felt in that moment.

Your dad has been amazing throughout the whole pregnancy though; constantly rubbing my feet, he held my hair back when I was experiencing morning sickness, he sent me on several pregnancy spa days, and the sweetest of all things, he constantly had his head at my stomach, rubbing soothingly and murmuring his love for the two of us; such a sweet man.

Alright, since we just past New Year's Eve, I'll share with you one of our stories about ringing in the New Year this time around.

Two years into our marriage and classes were out for break; your father packed two suitcases without my knowledge and all but forced me on a plane. He said it was time for just a tiny break, something to take our minds off the classes following our break. We ended up in New York, which is a beautiful city, sweet child.

We spent the weekend in a suite above Times Square, ready to celebrate with the mass of people who gathered there to watch the ball drop. The night of the drop we mingled around with the crowd outside, but quickly decided we would rather watch the ball drop from the window of our room. More romantic, we both thought. We ordered room service a little while before the ball was to drop and when it arrived, we fed one another chocolate covered strawberries, kissing between each bite while enjoying one another's presence. When the countdown began we snuggled in the window with our champagne glasses counting with the hundreds and hundreds of voices below. As the ball descended, all time lapsed, all voices went unheard as we wrapped ourselves around the other and sealed the night with a kiss.

The kiss was filled with all the wonderful things that were to come in our lifetime together. All the joyous occasions we would no doubt experience.

The rest of that weekend was spent sightseeing with one another, along with sitting in old bookstores; the kind that were small and the scent of old paper filled your senses. It was a magical weekend all in all.

Words of Wisdom: Feel the magic in everything that you do, sweet child. I can promise you, each magical moment is worth it.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 24, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

My precious baby girl, this month has been filled with a tremendous amount of love. As I'm sure your mother has spent time writing to you, filling you in on all the happenings of this pregnancy, no doubt with all the little things I try to do for her along the way. If I could take away all the morning sickness, the swelling, the indigestion, etc.; I absolutely would.

I admit, I was jealous when the one thing I wanted so much in this world was to feel you soft kicks, and your mother was graced with those first. I knew she would experience this too before I did, but it still sucked.

That night, in front of the fire, that seems like a lifetime ago, was just another of my happiest moments in life. As we laid snuggled up against the other, soaking in the days accomplishments in the courtroom where we had won a case for our clients, we spoke softly to one another and just felt all the emotions. Your mother's sudden jump had me concerned quickly, but the followed 'wow' calmed me just a bit. She was quick to grab my hand to place it over her rounded stomach. When I had begun to ask her what was the matter, she shushed me quickly, and within that next minute, my heart stopped for just a beat when I felt your tiny feet nudge my hand. It was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life. Needless to say, we spent that entire night, by the fire, just waiting for each of your tiny kicks.

My love for you is immeasurable, Abby bean.

Here's another story to share with you.

Your mother, clumsy as she ever is, had tripped over a messenger's bag in the library one evening. Trust me, I not once found her clumsy self an inconvenience. No, it was a trait that I adored. It meant that during moments such as this one, I would be able to hold her close and take care of her.

Now back to the story. She had tripped, not having seen the bag in her way, causing her to break her arm as she crashed to the floor. I was immediately bummed, knowing that I didn't protect her as I had wished, but she quickly smacked some sense into me for my depressed mood. Although she had just broken an arm, you would have never guessed. Perhaps it was with the knowledge that she had already broken it three times before.

The first minute, tears were shed, but after that, a smile was upon her face. As we waited for an ambulance, she was nothing if not perfect. She had turned into the comedian that she always ended up as during the wait. It didn't matter what the circumstances was, she was always trying to bring light to any situation. Your mother truly is an inspiration to everyone.

Once the ambulance had arrived, checked her over, and loaded her up, I ran to my vehicle and followed behind them; having hated to not be seated beside her on her journey. After we had arrived at the emergency room, your mom went through the process of x-rays and other tests. By the end of it, she came out of that emergency room, still smiling, but this time it was like a loon. They had drugged her up as best that they could, and wrapped her arm in the brightest green plaster they had, and sent her on her way.

Now, I need to make it clear that I absolutely hate to see your mother in pain, but I cherish the moments when I get away with taking care of her. She's a very independent woman, not caring for having to depend on others, so in moments that her clumsy nature causes such accidents, she swallows her pride for me; long enough for me to be the caregiver that I've longed to be with her. I honestly think she has a soft spot in her heart for moments such as these.

Your mother is a remarkable woman; one I can only hope you look up to in the future. I have no doubt that you will be a perfect combination of the two of us, but I truly hope that as you grow, you'll look up to us, just as we did our parents.

Invaluable lesson at this moment: Stay strong no matter what the circumstances; big or small.

Love,

Your Proud Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 12, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

We're over halfway there sweet child. Each and every significant moment has been surreal; some of the happiest moments in mine and your father's life, truly.

With each movement you make, my heart constricts further. There is nothing greater in life than having your child grow, move, and strive in a mother's womb. I'm sure the whole process would be surreal, no matter what the circumstances, but knowing that two individuals, soul mates if you will, entered this journey together, makes it ten times special.

One day, when you've found the man who completes every crevice of your being, you'll understand just how special the journey is. Stay true to who you are deep down, never accepting anything less than perfection when it comes to your other half. Save yourself for the one person who makes your heart soar, recognizing the song that is embedded in your heart instantly.

Your father and I enjoyed the day at the doctor's office today. We listened to the soaring song of your heart echoing off the white walls of the tiny examination room. It was a blessing, having the opportunity once again to listen to the mixture of our hearts song beating so beautifully.

Today I want to share a story about the little things in life; the things that one's heart thrives on.

I remember as if yesterday, when your father and I decided to take a drive through the countryside. We had happened on a small county fair that day. The sun was beaming gently in the sky, little clouds smiling down upon us during that summer afternoon. I didn't even have to ask your father to pull over, as he was bouncing like a child in his seat from that first sign alerting us to the fair a few miles back.

That afternoon, early evening, we chased our childhood across that stretch of green grass for miles. Our eyes were wide as we beamed to one another, filling our stomachs to the brim with fair goodies. Cotton Candy, Popcorn, Candy Apples, Corn Dogs, Lemonade, and Funnel Cakes: you name it; we managed to devour each and every one.

Every ounce of that day would forever be etched on our hearts, along with our brains. True romance comes from the little things in life.

There, in those grassy miles, we awakened the child within us as we each enjoyed the day. Everything there had descended from our childhood memories. Children ran freely around the carnival enjoying all the rides and food; laughter the day's biggest enjoyment of all.

It was there, at that carnival, that we enjoyed the simple things in life, even if we were adults. Laughter, gentle touches, and soft kisses; those were what made our love more thrilling and alive.

By nightfall, we had enjoyed each and every ride offered along with every last one of the fair food sampled. The last ride of the night, your father held onto my waist as the wind whipped through my hair from the rotation of the carousel and the up and down movements of the colorful horse I sat atop of. Your father's face was filled with nothing but love as our eyes remained locked on one another. I do believe he had glistening eyes when I let loose another round of laughter on that ride, but I highly doubt he'll ever admit to it. He must hold on to his man card, as he liked to joke about.

So, sweet child, my words of wisdom this time around are: Forget the map, make your own path to your intended destination. Soak up every given moment of your life and live it to your fullest.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 24, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

My precious daughter; how I love you.

I'm turning into one of those people who can't seem to sit still. I would like to blame it on nerves; unfortunately I'm unable to do such a thing. It's complete giddiness to be honest. We're so close to having you here with us, but I know that we need for you to wait until you're completely healthy and ready to come on your own, instead of wishing you would hurry and get here. Go ahead, laugh at your old man already, I know you want too.

It's kind of impossible to sit still at the moment, remember giddiness, but I'll try my best to sit still long enough to write the rest of this passage to you.

I want to share a secret with you in this next memory, one that your mother doesn't like for other females to know.

This story happens to take place during a special time for football fanatics. I'll let your brain try to figure that out for a second… Still giving time… … … Alright, so I'm sure if you haven't figured it out yet, you're begging for me to tell you already. It was during Super Bowl Sunday.

Like I said, this story wasn't privy to many, as your mother hated for other women to think she was manly. That she wasn't, believe me.

It doesn't matter if we came from money, it's still hard to come by Super Bowl tickets; money or not. I had concocted a fib, one where your mother thought we were taking a luxurious vacation on a sandy beach off the coast of Brazil. I had gotten lucky in my search for Super Bowl tickets and that was the very reason I concocted the fib.

I had experienced your mother's love of football firsthand as we spent each Sunday holed up in our apartment watching the sport. For as tiny as she was, she had a set of lungs a sailor would blush from. Very vocal, let me tell you.

So anyways, your mother had packed a suitcase filled with beach ware, only she didn't realize that I had switched said suitcase out at the last minute with one filled with warm clothing. I packed her favorite Sunday wear jersey's up, along with several pairs of jeans and sweats. Socks, gloves, and coats were stuffed inside with the rest.

I'll never forget the face she made when we boarded a plane destined to the Super Bowl's location. I honestly don't think it registered exactly why were headed in that direction, but I refused to ruin the surprise by telling her the exact reason we were going just yet.

We may have ended up with nosebleed seats during that game, but to see the abundant joy on your mother's face was something my heart still cherishes to this day. See, no matter how far away from the field we were, I was still able to wrap my arms around your mom and soak in the atmosphere around us that day.

I'm also pretty sure she scared the entire section surrounding us in those stands that day. She had cheered wildly for the underdogs, cursed the refs for what she deemed bad calls, and booed when those from the opposing team had scored a touchdown.

It didn't matter if the brisk wind took our breath away. I didn't matter if the underdogs didn't win.

What mattered was that in those nosebleed seats, I got to wrap myself around your mother with a snuggly blanket made for two. I got to experience a live sporting event with your mother; it was one of the happiest moments in my life.

I had never seen your mother so enthusiastic in all my life. All the elements of the day could never cloud such happiness.

Moral of the story: Weather should never determine one's happiness. Live for the enthusiastic moments in life, just as you would the calm, clear moments.

Love,

Your Proud Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>March 12, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

Seven months have passed by seemingly like a lifetime has gone by. All the swift kicks are happy reminders for me, erasing all the years of disappointment I felt when each pregnancy test was negative. Your kicks are also reminders of what will be the greatest years of your proud momma's life, sweet child. Those soccer kicks you enjoy unleashing on my bladder are well worth the moment's in which I have an accident in my panties. Not one time has those moments caused me to be upset, just know that sweet child.

Everything about this pregnancy has been a happy reminder to your father and me, for all the years of heartache we had to endure to get this point in life. But through all that heartache weathered, we survived on faith alone; faith that the greatest gift in life would come.

I'm sure there are things that I have been repeatedly written in this journal, but please know that these things are worth mentioning each time. You must realize that not all people are lucky enough to get the happily-ever-after they have dreamed of all their lives right away. Some people, even in their faith, will never get it, sadly. Dear child, my wish for you is that you never have to know that heartache in your lifetime.

Okay, on with a funny little story involving your father and a duck. I'm almost positive that he would never repeat this story to another, even if it is our child, because he was completely embarrassed afterwards. I do know that he hasn't breathed a word about this event to anyone besides me. If I hadn't been with him that day, I'm not sure he would have even told me.

The two of us had had a very stressful case we had been working on for a few months. It was taking every ounce of life in us to help this woman. In a short version, we had been fighting for this company to pay all doctor bills for this woman's child due to their company's involvement with a certain toxin in their products. This woman was the first to step forward and bring attention to the toxin. Needless to say, trying to find other's out there, who had been exposed to this certain toxin and made ill, we had our hands tied. We did later win this case, so know there are no more threats of anyone getting sick, so back to the story.

So, it was a stressful time for the both of us, but your father was far worse. I had gotten to my breaking point, a point where I knew I needed to just step back and relax for at least a day. Your father was stubborn, and just pushed it away instead of snapping. If I hadn't intervened, he would've made himself sick and ended up in the hospital, I have no doubt. I'm just thankful that I did intervene; I could never live a life without your father in it.

I had called one of your father's friends and convinced him to kidnap your dad. Okay, so I really just had to bribe him with some homemade brownies. He's definitely a big push-over when it comes to his stomach.

I had lied to your father, all in good reason of course, but I had told him that I was a little weak in the stomach that morning, so he went into the office by himself. Or so he thought that was where he was going. Emmett was waiting outside the front door that morning, and he immediately wrestled your dad into his vehicle, dragging him to the local golf course.

Upon their arrival there, Emmett forced your father to realize that he needed a day for himself, one without any stress in it. He had reminded him that if the both of us got sick from all the stress we were under, who would help Adam beat the big bad wolf?

This woke your father up quickly, making him realize that we both needed to take a day or two each week and just relax for ourselves. So with that realization, they enjoyed a round of golf. By afternoon, my part of the plan had begun, as Emmett dropped him off at the local park.

He was pointed in my direction, down by the water. I had planned a nice picnic there in the park that afternoon, a place where we could just kick back and relax. The sun was shining brilliantly in the sky as the park came alive with the noon chatter of kids playing, dogs barking, and the ducks quacking. It truly was relaxing. We are simple people, even if we did come from old money.

After lying around for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the park, we decided to join a round of volleyball with the other park goers. By the time we had finished playing and made it back to our blanket, the ducks had got nosey and ventured up towards our blanket. They had ransacked our picnic basket of the extra bread; I had laughed when I caught sight of the mess, but your father thought he needed to chase them away.

Things happened quickly from then on out. As I made it to the blanket and began to set, your father was already down by the water. I suppose the ducks didn't like being chased away, so it was as if they plotted to get back at your father.

Like I said, it happened so quickly. Three ducks launched themselves from the ground, all directly aimed at your father's head. He threw his arms up; trying to protect his face, but instead, he ended face down in the water.

When he emerged from the water, he was spluttering and trying to free himself of the algae. It was sight and made the day that more special because of the laughter we endured.

Words of Wisdom: Never wind yourself to tight; it's never healthy for you and those you love. Live for the laughter in life.

Love,

Momma

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>March 24, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

Your arrival is so close now, sweet child, I'm even worse this entry than I was last entry. This has been such a whirlwind, like I've blinked and missed so much, when in reality I haven't missed a thing. I'm in the panic mode, no lying. Your kicks have surprised your mother a time or two, causing me to freak and want to rush her to the hospital as soon as the 'oow' comes from her lips, which in turn makes your mom laugh at my frantic state. Please, Abby Bean quit making me look like a wimp!

Alright, I guess I need to share a new story with you. It's so hard for the two of us to pinpoint one story to share over the many other stories because, to us, there all equally memorable.

I do believe one of our Christmas tales would do some good here.

After we were married and moved into our house, since we had lived in the tiny apartment together beforehand, we decided to scrap our tiny Christmas tree for a large, real Christmas tree. Of course we decided to wait until a couple weeks before the holiday, so that the mess wasn't so bad. The real trees must be watered often, and you should always keep the needles swept up, dear child. I figured I should give you a heads up for when you buy one, if you ever do.

I had decided to wait until dark before we ventured off to find our tree at the tree farm. The tree farm was always lit with thousands of Christmas lights during the night, so it always felt more special doing it at night.

Once we were loaded up in the car, each of us filled with our own excitement and your mother's famous hot chocolate in our travel mugs, we exchanged our wants and preferences in the perfect tree. Your momma was adamant in that the tree must be a Douglas fir, and I all but demanded that it must be over six foot tall. The large cathedral windows begged for a massive tree to fill its open space.

When we had arrived, I hadn't even had the car stopped before your mother threw the door open and sprinted happily into the maze of trees. Quickly stopping the car and parking, I followed hastily behind her in the direction she had rushed towards. The sweetest of laughter filled my ears as I speed through the maze myself. It had come from the right of me three rows down, which is where I had come to a complete stopped in amazement.

There before me, your mother was squatting, perched on her heels giggling with a little girl and her mother. The sight was simply beautiful. I watched in fascination, no one else really paying attention to the scene before me. I suppose it wasn't beautiful to them.

The two women listened with complete rapture as the young girl spoke excitedly while using hand gestures to describe the perfect tree. Her cheeks were rosy red, reminding me of your precious mother. With each word or laugh, pillows of clouded moisture escape from behind their lips.

It wasn't long after I was caught by the three of them, causing me to stutter out my apologies. It was then determined by little Hope, that she would find us the perfect tree for our own home. She demanded our specifications, the proceeded to drag us from tree to tree, explaining exactly why each would make the perfect addiction to our home.

It was always such a treat getting to watch your mother interact with children, she was so maternal and loving to anyone, so adding a child into the mix and it was all tripled. Each child she encountered added new levels to her outwardly glow.

By the end of the night, we had a seven foot Douglas fir tied to the top of our car, both of us extremely happy and thankful for little Hope, the tree farms very own tree picker. It turns out; little Hope was the granddaughter to the owners of the farm. She truly was a blessing to us that night.

Hope, even in her young age, schooled us in tree care before we pulled out of the lot that night. It was a night that we always look back on with fondness in our hearts.

Our tree, standing proudly in the Cathedral windows, was a hit with all those who witnessed its beauty. Your mother and I decorated each full limb with precious ornaments; some from our own childhoods, other's we had purchased, and even some that were handmade that year. Hundreds of white lights dotted the tree as well, causing it to glow beautifully.

It was one of my fondest memories.

Words of Wisdom: Cherish your fondest memories, sweet child; they will warm your heart in the darkest of times.

Love,

Your Proud Papa

* * *

><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

* * *

><p><em><strong>April 12, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

I do believe your father will be sporting a dent in the side of his head upon your arrival into this crazy, oversized world. I'm almost positive if I didn't love the man more than life itself, I would have done thrown something heavy at his head already. Than man has turned into a complete worrywart; I try very hard to remain focused on being patient with him, as neither of us has been in this situation before. Ever since the last visit to the doctor, he has become worrisome of my blood pressure. It was a little high during that visit and it has been normal ever since, but your father still worries; bless his heart.

Besides your father driving me batty with his unfounded concerns now, this has still been one of the greatest experiences in my life. Who knows if we'll be on this road again, after you're born, but I'm just thankful and blessed to have done it at least once. If the time comes when we think you need a sibling and we can't conceive, we can always adopt. Adoption is a wonderful process as well. There are always children out there, whom need loving parents as well. Blood doesn't make you family; what makes you a family is the love you hold for the other.

So, I suppose I should grant you with another memory for you to cherish later in your life.

April Fool's Day. A day for random acts of craziness.

Victim: The Dad himself.

The man absolutely loathed for someone to mess with his settings on his phone, computer, remote, etc. You get the drift.

The start of the day began in the wee hours of the a.m.; I knew that my arsenal of tricks would have him ready to kill a person by the end of the day.

It started with the alarm clock beside the bed. I had waited for him to go to sleep before I snuck back out of the bed and set the clock to go off at different intervals of time. Next, good old duct tape became my best friend.

Your father had been asleep for no more than forty-five minutes before the clock began to blare. I suppressed my laughter as your father jumped in fright and tried to turn off the offending noise. He quickly realized that the clock was not in its designated place, so he groaned and got out of the bed in search of his beloved alarm clock. His search was fruitless, having been able to find it before it silenced itself for the time being.

Remember, I lay in bed pretending to be asleep and not hearing the loud noise.

He huffed to himself, scratched his head before chalked it up as he was sleep walking. Then he proceeded to climb back in bed where he quickly drifted off to sleep again.

The night continued just the same; he would doze back off for an hour before the blaring would start up again, waking him from his light slumber. I didn't feel the faintest bit ashamed for playing such a cruel trick on him, considering the jokes he had pulled on me the following year.

Not once, in all his times being awoken just to have the clock go silent before he could find it, did he ever look up to the ceiling. There, in the upper right hand corner of the room, the exact place where I had duct taped the alarm.

Of course, by morning he was a supreme crouch. I got a full blown stink eye when it was time for us to head in for work that morning. Poor guy, he thought I was done with him for the day, boy was he wrong. He even praised me for the ultimate prank when he found the alarm taped to the ceiling in the lit room that morning.

He had a fake appointment scheduled that afternoon, but did he know it was a fake? No. Well, not until he actually arrived at the designated meeting place that day. Yes, I screwed up his directions, leaving him to drive straight to a lake of ducks. Of course you know that the ducks played a meaningful part in a stressful situation, so I figured a little laugh would do him some good during all the pranking that the day entailed.

Once he arrived back at the office, highly annoyed and somewhat amused, he once again praised me for yet another prank gone well.

Your dad then proceeded on with the rest of his day. It took him quite a while to realize the subtle things I had screwed up that day.

One of my close friends had married an 'IT' guy, one who knew his computers well. Truly, the man was a genius. I had spoken to him several months prior, asking him if several things were even possible, which he quickly assured me that he could do anything that I wanted. He thought my ideas were brilliant and he was up to the task.

Who knew one man could create something thought up by some lawyer who knew next to nothing about computers. He had created a wireless remote, one that allowed me to have complete control over several different devices at one time.

One button would cause his cell to ring, only to have him be greeted with static each time he answered. The next button would cause his computer to haywire; blinking and resetting. Another button switched the digital clocks backwards or forwards. It was utter chaos in his little world that day.

By that evening, your father was at his wit ends, ready to tear his hair out from the roots. At dinner that night, he deemed me the April Fool's Day queen of pranks and agreed he would never prank me again.

Words of Wisdom: Never let someone out prank you. Be for certain that you will forever be the queen of pranks. Don't become a stick in the mud, have fun and live life to the fullest.

Love,

You Momma

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><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

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><p><em><strong>April 24, 1997<strong>_

Dear Abby Bean;

Alright, the time is closing in on us. Your arrival is a day we have looked forward to for a long time now. It is a time the two of us have dreamed about; longed for.

I should be telling you things like: Say no to drugs! You are not allowed to date until your forty! Don't have sex until you're married. Don't talk to strangers! Or, Don't take candy from strangers!

Yeah, I'm pretty sure there are a million other things I should have written so that you would have a checklist to come back to during the future, but I refuse to be a dad that doesn't allow you the opportunity to make your own mistakes. A dad who refuses to let his little girl grow up. One who can't understand that things are way different for a girl than they are for a boy.

I don't know how to deal with a girl, other than your mother, so I hope I don't screw you up to bad kid. I can only keep my faith in God; faith that he will guide me in the right direction each and every time we meet a bump in the road.

It will be a struggle kiddo; that I'm pretty sure of. But, it will be worth each one of those struggles. That I can guarantee.

Alright, I'll stop being a sap and a worrier now. One last story before you arrive, as I know we'll share all the rest for your childhood, teenage years, and adulthood.

One of my most favorite, most memorable moments took place just a few months ago actually.

It was the day we had told our families.

For the past couple years, your mom had been spending all her extra time making handmade quilts for both sets of our parents.

Don't tell her I know this little fact, but she has always been adamant that our first child would be a little girl, even if she would always tell those who asked that as long as the child was healthy it didn't matter what the sex. I'm sure she thought I was none the wiser, but I know your momma like a book. Her eyes are the windows to her soul for me.

Anyways, she spent several years making those adorable handmade quilts for both our parents. This was another factor for me to know what she wanted more than anything else, because I use to joke about how if we had a little boy, then the pink wouldn't go so well. She always told me that she was making both pink and blue; she just chose to make the pink first.

Again, I'm off track. I ramble when I'm nervous, which I am because of your arrival.

Each quilt was done in soft pink and white checkered squares. The material was something of a silky texture, but definitely not silk itself. The edging was done in ribbons woven in and out of the pink fabric that was stitched to hold the quilt together.

Rotating pink and white checkered squares along the outer edges of the huge pink square in the middle, where a white stitched teddy bear was the main focus.

For your mother not to have known how to sew until her later twenties, she had done such an elegant job one each of the quilts. I was and still am so proud of her hard work and craftsmanship.

It wasn't until recently she had added your full name underneath the white stitched teddy bear in an elegant, cursive font stitching.

We had waited until we had found out your sex before we had told anyone. We had both been so concerned about this pregnancy, that we needed to make sure for ourselves that this was really happening. There was no point in having others join in our excitement until we were completely sure.

Once your name was added to the quilts, we invited our parents for a brunch date at the house. They quickly agreed, having said they were looking forward to seeing us on that day.

Your mom and I worked several hours on the menu before their arrival for that special brunch date, knowing that their worlds were about to change, just as ours had all those months prior.

As they arrived, we settled around the table on the covered patio behind our house. Everyone dove into your mom's famous chocolate chip waffles, along with the honey glazed fruit salad. Conversation was kept light during the meal, since most of it was filled with hums of approval for the chef.

Once everyone was finished eating, your mom and I excused ourselves from our parents, explaining that we had something for the lot of them.

Your momma had wrapped each quilt delicately in tissue papers, having placed it inside of a giant gift box. The box was littered in pastel colored ribbons against the stark whiteness of the box itself.

I suppose we should be thankful that your mother hadn't started to show too bad up till this point or I our secret would have been out of the bag immediately upon their arrival that afternoon.

With the boxes in tow, we stepped onto the patio with smiles on our faces. We had places the boxes in front of each of our mothers, asking them to enjoy their presents.

Each mom tore into the package with delight, pulling the lid off quickly and pushing the tissue paper to the side. Our dads just watched the women lovingly. Once the tissue was out of the way, each one 'oohed' and 'awed' before pulling the quilt out like it was made of glass.

They had immediately asked where we had gotten such fine quilts, commenting on the delicate materials that were used. Once they had found out your mother had made them, they four of them all stared at her in amazement and commented on her skills.

Your mom and I had to persuade them to unfold them, considering neither one of them wanted to disturb such beauty. Their words.

Once we had told them that the surprise was inside the quilts, the each wasn't too worried about its beauty then.

I counted into your mother's ear, waiting for each one to erupt into squeals that should be illegal, before they jumped from their seats, quilt all but forgotten at the moment.

That day, your momma glowed for many various reasons. Her happiness level was through the roof, as the three women talked excitedly about your arrival, all the things they hoped for the future, etc. The three of us men, we sat off to side watching our other half. There would be a question thrown in from time to time from one of your grandfathers, but for the most, words just didn't do it.

This was one of my most cherished memories, sweet child.

Daddy loves you.

Words of Wisdom: Glow! Spread your wings and fly!

Love,

Your Proud Papa

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><p><strong>Find me on the following:<strong>

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	19. EPILOUGE

**Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus. **

**All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.**

**Hey you! Yes, you. You're amazing and send the most humbling words of support. I'm truly blessed to have you all in my corner.**

**On we go…**

**-Leslie**

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Sixteen: An ordinary number for most.

Sixteen for me was anything but ordinary; a number that seemed to take a lifetime to arrive.

While most sixteen year olds were planning their over the top, extravagant, sweet sixteen parties, I was, however, planning to open an old, worn-out leather bound journal; a portal to my very past.

Within those pages, words were written in two different sets of handwriting. A messy scrawl: seemingly my mother's handwriting. Then there was an elegant, manly script that would have to be my father's.

Each word that passes through my line of sight ingrained itself there in my brain, along with my heart.

The words played out like a fairy tale, one that a person would never read in some childhood book. They would not get their happily-ever-after, nor would their endless happiness be met with the wails of a child; something they had both longed to hear.

During the first week of April, mere weeks before the arrival of their first and only child, a drunk driver veered through the center lane, clipping several cars, and crashing head-on into my parent's car.

That night was a fatal night in the lives of Edward and Isabella Cullen. A night, where the dynamic duo, whose plans were to save people in need, one person at a time; whose dreams were to be the best parents they knew they could be.

That night, clouded by nothing but an endless nightmare, the families of both young ones prayed they would make it through that fateful night in that dimly lit waiting room; waiting for any news on their loved ones.

That night at 1:08 a.m. time of death was called out by a young surgeon filled with nothing but weary sadness. My father was the first go, but the news wouldn't be spread to the family until my mother was seen too as well.

1:16 a.m. - Time of death; Time of Birth. I was extracted from my mother's body as the veteran surgeon pronounced her lifeless body dead.

This was an occasion that was supposed to be filled with endless visitors. Those who came to see the newest arrival; to coo over the swaddle of pink fabric, chubby cheeks and soft gurgles; no this was an occasion that was overshadowed with tragedy and grief.

So at sixteen, I laid cuddled beneath the two handmade quilts that my own mother crafted herself, wrapped up in the warmth of my parents words and memory-filled love story.

I imagine this to be the next best thing, next to having my parents bodies here wrapped around me during what was supposed to be a joyous milestone in my young life. But it doesn't work that way, even if I continued to wish for that exact scenario happening each year I blow out the candles on my cake.

I often wondered as a child why I survived, what made me any more special than my parents, but now I took comfort as I read the words they had written, knowing that I was here to make sure my parents lived on. Through me, they would live forever.

Content with the knowledge I have gained through their words and the strongest love I had ever felt flows through my veins, I closed my eyes and wept for what I would never have.

I may have grown into the teenager I am today because of my grandparents love, but I knew it would never be the same as the love they could have given me.

I drifted to sleep; dreams filled with wavy, mahogany hair and a crooked smile. This was the time of day when my parents gave their love to me.

"Good night, our sweet child," they whispered in unison.

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><p><strong>Wow! So this has been a great journey for me. It's so nice that you all joined me, filled my inbox with amazing reviews, and now I'm sure you all want to kick my ass for not filling you in on the ending. I apologize, well, no, actually I don't. It's great to be able to step back from a story filled with lemons and just write something that shows off a little of my other sides. I like to prove myself from time to time, open up my mind and let my fingers carry me on a journey that no one would see coming.<strong>

_**Much love to you all!**_

_**With sadness, I now hit the complete button for this story.**_

**Find me on the following:**

**Facebook - .com/leslieannjustice**

**Twitter - MindlessKitty**


	20. AN

**Dear Readers;**

**Sadly, over the past few weeks, the writers who have posted their stories have been treated unfairly by FFn. If you aren't aware yet, there is a group of children, going by the LawlClan, reporting stories they feel are not FFn worthy, or we have all just overlooked the terms of the site.**

**Thousands of stories have been unfairly removed without warning to the writers. There is no warning email, informing writers that their stories will be removed. FFN has taken the children's words over doing just a little research by reading said reported stories. **

**Many authors have already begun to move their stories to another site. Who can really blame them, right?**

**I do hope that all my loyal readers will take part on our ban come the weekend. If you are a member of facebook, you can always join our event there, it's under: **

**www(dot)facebook(dot)com/events/319924711420836/320490844697556/**

**I've included the information posted in our event; we hope to see you join us for this. It's time to stand up to these children. It's time to stand up to FFn, show them exactly where their fanbase is and prove to them that we can continue to remain silent on the site.**

**If you notice on the front page, under all book categories, Twilight has the most stories, readers and writers alike. **

**-Leslie**

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><p><strong>Stop using FFN for 48 hrs, starting Friday June 8, 2012 at 00:00:00 PDT (Pacific US Time) to Sunday June 10, 2012 at 00:00:00 PDT. Use this converter to know your times <strong>**www(dot)timezoneconverter(dot)com/cgi-bin/tzc(dot)tzc****  
><strong>

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><p><strong>TWITTER HASHTAG #NOFFN<strong>

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><p><strong>www(dot)facebook(dot)comStopFanFictionCensorship**

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><p>Readers, you can download anything before that time, read completed FF, or even go and check for updates at other sites.<p>

Authors can post any updates after this time and are free to update their stories in any other site.


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